


Lover, Now (Lover Series, Part 4)

by xof1013



Series: Lover Series [4]
Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: Dom/sub, Drama, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-28
Updated: 2010-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xof1013/pseuds/xof1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When waiting gets to be too much, it has to happen NOW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lover, Now (Lover Series, Part 4)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I told myself I was on a fic writing break - because WHAM, here this comes. Thanks to Alexis in advance - lol - for the beta. For newbies to this series, I strongly encourage you to read "Lover, Mine" - "Lover, Yours" and "Lover, More" first.
> 
> Dedication: To Alexis, Paddy, Farrah, Margo and Calysta. You understand why. May this be just a little of what we all needed in the aftermath.
> 
> Warnings: This story contains what some would consider a minor kink mixed in with the barest elements of D/s play. No worries, luvs. It's mostly only under-lining subtext to their passions this go around.

Lover, Now (Lover Series, Part 4)   
by xof

 

\---------

"Buggering hell." Stuart's voice rose as he slammed down the phone.

Sandra smirked as she watched him seething. "I'd have thought that buggery would be a heavenly state, in your mind." She knew his plans had just been pulled for the night, due to a conference call from the States. Too bad he'd be missing out on the reservations she'd made for him and Vince earlier in the day.

"Bloody buggering hell, sans lube then…." He grouched, throwing off his jacket as he sagged back into his leather office chair.

Laughing, Sandra shook her head. "I see. Difference in distinction." When he sighed in reply, she walked over to his mini-bar and prepared him a straight scotch. Placing it on his desk without a word passing between them aside from the questioning arch of Stuart's brow, Sandra picked up her files. "I'll cancel the reservations and I'll order in for you. Thai do okay?" He didn't indicate one way or the other, so she took that to mean yes. She'd just reached the door when she had a thought. "Do you want me to do the deed of telling Vince?"

Stuart opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off when his mobile rang. Looking at the display, he grinned before his face fell back into a frown. He answered, "Stuart Jones, Style Emporium - where we strive to meet your needs but only as conference calls from piss-ant Yanks will allow." He had to cover his ear to hear Vince on the line as Sandra burst out laughing as she exited the office.

There was a long pause before Vince spoke. "Again? That's five nights running, Stuart. Between my late shifts and your overtime." His voice was soft with disappointment, and what Stuart knew was barely concealed worry. He understood that Vince still felt insecure about their…. About the changes in their relationship. Lord, that word - relationship. Lovers. And to Stuart's surprise and pride, exclusively so all these weeks past.

Proud but for the fact that they'd yet to tell anyone they were together. At first, they'd reveled in the illicitness of their secret. It had made letting go and giving up control of their fantasies much easier - without benefit of an audience. Mutually satisfying to be in on the news without letting others know. But as they continued to play, it grew more difficult to keep the lines from blurring in others' eyes. Stuart didn't have to hear the murmurs running through his workplace and on Canal Street to know that others were starting to suspect things had changed. Their dancing together, constant touches and public kisses at Babylon alone were clues enough to the observant. As was his not having copped off with various and sundry. But still they rode the edge of what people suspected and what they knew to be true. And Stuart knew it was silently killing Vince.

He also knew that it would be up to him to say the words aloud, to tell their inner circle that it was "boyfriends." Otherwise, Vince would continue to think he was Stuart's dirty secret. The twat…

"It's not my fault, Vince. This client's on the verge of pulling out of the contract negotiations unless I kowtow to every little whim. And that includes these call meetings." Sighing as he raked his fingers through the curls covering his ear - the ones that he'd not cut in weeks thanks to his Vince's fascination with Stuart's hair - Stuart said warmly, "It's not as if I haven't sneaked into your bed every other night I could, or you in mine." But he too was tired of only having calls and murmuring sighs in the dark. "I did have Sandra make plans for dinner for us, but she's canceling."

Vince asked, "Do you want me to bring you take away?"

Stuart's gut clenched, and he bit his lip to keep from saying yes. In his present mood, he'd be of the mind to ravish Vince on the spot and the call be-damned. A pleasant idea but not one that would save the account he'd been working on for months. "Best not. Sandra's ordering in. And there's no telling how long the call's going to last. If they demand more changes, I could be here late working to get the new drafts over to them before they close midnight our time."

More silence on the line….

"Vince?"

A quick, low mumble sounded. "Yeah, I … uhm. I'll just…."

"Vince, I want you to be at mine when I get home. You'll come…."

"All right, Stuart." Vince hung up the phone without another word, leaving Stuart staring at his mobile - fighting the inclination to hurl it across the room. He'd meant tonight to be a beginning. Reservations, expensive and public dinner - even hand-holding across a table - as he told Vince he wanted their family of friends to know that Vince was his. And that Stuart was Vince's.

His one true gesture of contemplative romance, ruined by ill-timing.

"Fuckers," he growled out - his office line buzzing to let him know the call was on.

~~

Three hours later, and the office was buried in the practical chaos of his discarded ideas. Stuart stared at the copy in his hand, his eyes squinting in the dim light of the room. Dim due to his forgetting to turn on his overhead lights once darkness had fallen. The lights of his desk lamp and computer reflected off his skin as the moon glowed over his back through the glass wall behind his desk. He was biting his thumb, eyes focused entirely on their proof-reading.

Stuart slowly leaned back in his leather chair as a sly grin spread out over his face. Finally, he knew there was no way the clients would be able to refuse the draft he had in hand. They'd be complete mongs not to see how brilliant it was for their needs. "Yesss…." His voice sounded forth with a tired gladness. Stuart shoved his chair back from the desk, standing as he clicked the send button to forwarded the files to New York. He side-stepped the carton of food he'd absently placed beside his chair earlier, when every area of his desk surface had been covered - almost knocking it over.

Grumbling he bent over and threw the half finished, cold Thai away and then went over to his bar. He'd drained the scotch Sandra'd given him right off the bat, but had switched to bourbon as his call came to an end - knowing the hours it would take to please the idiots on the other end of the line. Stuart reached towards the back of his stock, and selected his favorite Irish whiskey. Special occasions only. Or at his whim. He threw back a shot, gasping at the burn but relishing the fire of it trailing down his throat and into his system. Capping the bottle, Stuart pushed it back where it had been.

He went and stood looking out at the night, waiting to hear the chimes of an incoming email or the ringing of his phone. Impatient to leave, especially now that he could feel the possibility hanging in the air, Stuart rubbed at the back of his neck and watched Manchester's lights sparkle all around. He'd discarded his jacket and tie hours before, his shoes just afterwards. Standing in tailored dress pants the color of dark blood burgundy, his black shirt opened three buttons down at the collar with sleeves rolled up - Stuart's slim frame was almost lost in the night. Rust, burgundy - all the results of Vince's influence on Stuart's wardrobe choices. Only the whispering touches of moon glow made the distinction as it played over his skin, shining over the silver at his wrist and neck. His eyes reflecting back at him from the glass.

Pressing his head to the cool fragile pane, Stuart closed his eyes. Waiting still, wanting it to be over . . . wanting to find his way home to what he knew would be waiting. Wanting and waiting for Vince…. He sighed as he recognized the freedom of no longer second-guessing the desire for the man; as he realized the draw of needing to have it all again and again. Brooding at being made to wait for it on the whim of strangers from across the pond.

Vince on the brain…. Now wouldn't that serve to boost the man's confidence. Not that he seemed to lack any when he touched Stuart, or when he accepted Stuart's touch in return.

Stuart licked his lips, savoring the last of the whiskey on his tongue but thinking passed it to what he'd prefer to have coating his taste buds. The taste of Vince, addicting and…. "Delicious," Stuart whispered - his eyes still closed, forehead to the glass and hands pressed to its cool surface at his sides.

Time ticking by at a drag, and still no answer back. Anticipation was making him tense.

Behind closed eyes, images of Vince flew through his mind - each moment remembered firing Stuart's blood. He tried to think of nothing but it didn't work and intentionally off-putting ideas held no power to distract. And Tyler ruled his night.

Giving up when even the thought of Lisa naked failed to work, Stuart dropped his hands and with a shake of his head, opened his eyes….

To find the reality of Vince's image reflecting back in the large pane, from just behind Stuart's shoulder.

Stuart turned as Vince stopped a touch away. His lover was dressed all in black, clothing tight as it covered him completely in a high turtle-necked jumper and fitted trousers. His hair was spiked just so, giving him a restless look like he'd just dropped out of bed, driven by an ache equal to Stuart's own. Skin, pale in contrast to the surrounding darkness, made luminescent in the moon's rays.

Grinning slowly at having what he wanted most suddenly appear, Stuart arched a brow in question. He started to speak but stopped as Vince shook his head.

"You're not allowed." Voice gruff and firm, matching the serious intent writ across Vince's expression. Mr. Tyler come for a stay in order to play. He walked around Stuart, pushing a bit with his hands at Stuart's hips until they came to stand front to back before Stuart's desk. "Hands flat and bottom out." Vince guided Stuart into the pose, placing palms against the desk as Stuart pressed back with his arse in the cradle of Vince's groin.

Stuart drew in a breath, taken by surprise at how each time he would find himself given over so easily. To give up the control to the one man he knew would carry him through and be there after. He remembered then, that it was Vince's turn to play. With him, as it were. Shaking his head in agreement, Stuart waited for Vince to go on.

Hot breath, blown over the shell of his ear and Stuart shivered. Murmuring as Vince pressed close, nuzzled his nose into the curls at Stuart's neck and inhaled. One long, slow pull of air and then a teasing gust of breath as Vince released a hum of pleasure at making Stuart's scent a part of himself. Stuart gasped, smiling at how even Vince's breathing could make him hard. With naughty intent, he circled back into the answering hard-on behind him - coming to a stop abruptly as Vince slapped him across his arse, a command to stop moving when he wasn't allowed.

"Can you imagine just how many times I've wanted to do that over the years, to give your arse a proper pounding." At Stuart's laugh, Vince added. "Didn't know half the time whether I wanted to do it most with my cock, my hand or my belt. Got so mixed up mad with it all that many a night, any would have done. On you, in you…. Whatever method that would have eased the need fastest."

To emphasize his point, Vince clutched Stuart's hips and ground against him lightly - pulling back every once and again to slap his behind before returning to his rhythm. Stuart arched back into both the press and pound, loving both sensations as he started to sweat. He fought to keep his hands on the desk but with each new impact of Vince's hand, it became increasingly difficult. The hits made a dull thumping sound as naked hand met cloth-covered skin, each strike coming more quickly behind the others until the spanks were all the contact their bodies had.

Stuart's thoughts fled in the slow burning fire that tingled just under his skin. He gasped and moaned, but remained unaware of the sound of his own voice. Unaware too, of the ringing phone that broke the sequence of Vince's rough touch. Only after he felt the lack of more, did Stuart come back to the reality of the Vince's having stopped.

"Shhh, deep breaths." Vince pulled Stuart upright, indicating he should answer it.

Stuart shook his head, trying to clear his brain and coughed to bring back his voice. Grabbing the phone, it was all he could do to make out what was being said on the other end of the line. He managed to give short replies, even explaining his breathless tone away as being the result of running back into the office to get the phone in time. Course having Vince mutter, "My own private Marathon Man," in his other ear didn't help to control his impulse to start laughing. The pull and glide of Vince's fingers loosening his belt and opening his pants were the culprits to keeping him in the 'now' of their interrupted passion.

Stuart tried to sidestep Vince's hands, but was quickly pulled back and his pants were pushed to the floor. "No underwear. 's nice."

Waist-down naked, on the phone to NYC with a commanding Vince at his back. Stuart had never come as close to dropping a phone in his life. The time stretched as he tried to listen to the 'whaa whaa's' of the other person's voice talking about the final proof, and for a moment he managed. That is, until Vince began to slowly trace the inner curve between Stuart's cheeks. His fingers traced from top to bottom, smoothing circles over the spot between Stuart's legs just behind his balls. The thumb teased over his opening, pressing in and then pulling back - never finding its way passed the first ring but causing serious havoc with Stuart's frame of mind.

Covering the mouth piece, Stuart muttered, "Wait."

Vince turned him, pressing him back until Stuart was caught against the desk. He ran his eyes over Stuart's body, mapping out the desire they both knew. Sizing up Stuart's lack of serious intent for him to stop, Vince quickly pulled the last three buttons of Stuart's shirt open and dragged the material off the man's shoulders - trapping his arms. Vince pulled the phone from Stuart's hand and held it to his own chest. "No, lover. Now...."

Three words, two quick jerks and Stuart had his shirt flying over his desk to the floor. Stepping out of his discarded pants, Stuart smirked and put his hand out for the phone. Eyes locked on Vince, the call ended with only a few words as Stuart told whomever it was holding that they'd gotten what they needed. It was the best they'd get and he'd welcome their comments - tomorrow. The authoritative brush-off and goodbye fell from Stuart's manner with the slam of his phone, and he stood looking up through his lashes at Vince. Waiting to see what would happen, now that "now" was here.

Vince shook his head, an indulgent smile curving his lips as he enjoyed Stuart's nature. "Turn around."

Taking the turn slowly, Stuart did a complete circle just to spite him.

Sighing despite his smile, Vince admonished Stuart's willfulness. "Turn your back to me unless you just want to keep waiting to be touched again."

A muttered, "Bastard," accompanied Stuart's compliance. They both knew being touched by Vince was something that would make Stuart cave. He couldn't get enough of it recently. Not that Vince didn't want Stuart's touch just as much, but somehow over the years the bastard had learned a higher level of self-restraint than Stuart had maintained in his king of indulgences world.

Stuart closed his eyes as he felt Vince standing at his back, shivering as warm fingers played along the length of his spine and over the curves of his arse. He sucked in a breath as Vince clutched the roundness in his hand with a firm grip and then slapped his palm against the smooth skin. Moments passed and all Stuart could focus on was the tease and claim of Vince's hands. He placed his own back on the desk and bent into Vince's touch, spreading his legs wantonly as the fingers dipped once more between his thighs.

"You're such a cat, Stuart. I could stroke you for hours." Vince leaned in over Stuart's back, whispering a question in his ear. "Think I should? Keep you arching and purring for hours?"

"Vince, if you don't do something to me soon you'll be feeling my claws," Stuart grouched. "I'm not going to be called 'Kitty Kat Jones,' again by you,"  
adding a plaintive, "Sir...." at the end.

A warm burst of laughter sounded as Vince bit playfully at Stuart's neck. They both knew this wasn't a true scene like they'd played before. Vince's surprise visit held its own special intent. He hugged his arms around Stuart's body, teasing over the man's nipples before moving down to take Stuart's cock in hand. Determined slow pulls followed as Stuart bit his lip to stop his moans. Vince traced circles over the head, wetting his fingers with Stuart's response. He raised his hand and traced the wet across Stuart's lips, gasping himself when Stuart opened his mouth and took them inside. Tasting himself at his lover's insistence.

Vince growled when Stuart nipped at his fingertips, and pulled his hand free as he pushed Stuart all the way down over the desktop

Arse-out and panting with want, Stuart rolled his forehead over the hard surface as he listened to the quiet pull of Vince's zipper and the jingle of the belt buckle hanging free. The crackle of a condom wrapper opening followed. Stuart tried to take himself in hand, the anticipation making him forget that he mustn't, but he stopped when Vince slapped his behind and tisked loudly.

Pulse echoing through his head, felt in his cock…. Stuart spoke without control to stop. "Do it. Now."

Vince murmured as he licked small trails up his lover's back, "How do you need it? Slow, hard…."

"Just now, Vince. Now."

One long tongue slide from the base of his spine to the back of his neck, and Vince said, "What's the magic word?"

"Fuck." Stuart gasped as Vince pushed a slick finger inside in one solid push until it flicked over his prostate.

A dark chuckle as words still teased, "And one more beginning with P…."

"Fucking please, Vin . . . uhmmm." His words were cut short as Vince pressed in, taking him in a slow thrust that only ended when he was fully seated inside.

Filled, consumed with the hard hot presence of Vince within and Stuart was lost. He didn't think, he didn't care - all was the fuck and the feel. Vince took him hard, fast . . . leaving his mark on Stuart's bruised hips as he pressed inside. Circling back, Stuart moved into and away as their frantic pace started to lose its rhythm. He felt the moment becoming a part of him; felt Vince becoming a part of him - their breaths mingling, their bodies pressed into one and he relished each small sob, each groan they called and answered with as the fire spread through his veins.

No time, no end . . . and yet, and yet. "Ahh, Vince." And yet the end was coming, rising up through him on a wave. Stuart shook, crying out as Vince pounded into him - the thrusts each hitting that hot mark inside him. Grunting with the force of it, and in a flash his mind blazed and body burned. Vince's voice yelled out in his ear, lasting but a tick as he slumped across Stuart's back.

Stuart laughed in a low chuckle, reveling in the sensation of what was for him a rarity. Coming without his cock being touched, having the fuck do the work sans hands. Bravo, Vince. "That was fucking huge...." Start smiled, hearing Vince groan as he rubbed his head against Stuart's back. He teased, "shag was pretty big too." He flinched as Vince bit down on the scruff of his neck, and elbowing the man in return.

Vince kissed the wound, licking lightly over the teeth marks before carefully easing out of Stuart's body. Getting rid of the condom, Vince fastened his trousers and pulled Stuart round. Taking his mouth, Vince laughed into their kiss. "Wanker."

One long snog and Stuart pulled back, "Not this time I wasn't." He sucked in a breath when Vince clutched his bottom with a firm hand, the skin sensitive from before. "And about that, Tyler. Should make you clean my spunk off the sodding desk for it, don't you think." Course his humor jerked into shocked surprise when Vince abruptly leaned in and licked the drops off the desktop. Staring with his mouth open, Stuart ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. He closed his eyes and still the image of Vince doing THAT played out again and again in his mind's eye. "Bloody hell, Vince. I actually have to work behind this thing, you know. How'm I going do get anything done with that in my head...."

Vince reached out, running his fingers through Stuart's hair as his eyes met Stuart's own. "So now we're even in that...." And Stuart knew....

He knew Vince meant their time in the loo at Babylon and the intimate gift he'd given him. Images neither would lose with the passage of time.

Vince ran his eyes over Stuart's still naked body, taking in the contrast between it and his own clothed form. Stuart knew how he must look, skin slick with sweat and come covering his abdomen and thighs - happy and well-shagged. And again in that moment, Vince surprised him.

Nothing mattered in the clichéd dynamic of top vs. bottom, clothed vs. nude - it was the nature of the beast shining its light on what Vince wanted to give the man he adored.

He knelt before Stuart with hands at his sides, and bowed his head to cover Stuart's sex with his tongue - bathing its length and licking clean the traces of Stuart's pleasure with slow laps along his inner thighs.

And Stuart stood silent and amazed, his breath gone and heart full to bursting. He'd never been made to feel so . . . humbled in all his life.

Sliding down, Stuart knelt facing Vince. He leaned in and kissed the evidence away, murmuring against his mouth as they shared. "You're a dangerous man, Vince Tyler."

Vince hummed into the kiss, pulling Stuart against him. "Yours...."

Astride Vince's lap, content in his arms - Stuart answered as only his heart would allow. "Lover, yours and mine."

Finis


End file.
